We both wait on the same side of the door…

We both wait on the same side of the door…
Made of stone and metal…
Wishing that someone will open it…
If no one comes, how will we get in?

Oh no, now I hear thunder…
Playing like a bass drum in an orchestra…
Clouds with peach-colored cheeks expanding, puffing up with rain…
Exposing the most fragile places in our lives.

Ooh, what is that disturbing smell…
It’s getting stronger by the second…
I promise you its not me…
I was just expressed last week.

Trapped by our circumstances on the outside…
Inside that door are the treasured volumes…
Hoarse from our howls and screeching…
We just keep knocking.

The door opens, and inside the sky is streaked and splashed with our favorite blues…
Making us wonder why we turn real things into empty air…
How did you open the door my friend asks…
“I simply turned the knob.”

I love you,

Annie